


Breathless

by Kikithehousemoose



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Anal Plug, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Choking, F/M, Graphic Description of Corpses, Im p sure autoerotic means doing it to yourself but there wasnt a better option, Im so bad at tagging this Im sorry, No corpsefucking but Zag does die and Meg admires her work, Snuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:27:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27413470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kikithehousemoose/pseuds/Kikithehousemoose
Summary: Meg's whip: Around Zag's neckThe heel of the handle: In his assZagreus: Choking more the further it goes inNeedless to say, he's in for a good time
Relationships: Megaera/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 68





	Breathless

**Author's Note:**

> Elaboration on a tag warning: Zag gets choked to death and once he's dead Meg feels up his damaged neck. The description of Zag's corpse/injuries isn't as graphic as it could be but enough that it needs a warning. 
> 
> Also this starts in media res so don't expect any build up.

The mewl that comes from Zagreus is one of Megaera’s favorite sounds. It’s only ever born from something new and unexpected, which is as much proof as needed that she doesn’t need to regret this little experiment. His cheeks instinctually clench against the foreign object- she digs her nails into his skin to part them herself, even though she knows he’s wide and wet enough. 

“ _Relax”_ she commands, and he has to. A shiver jolts through his spine, body visibly trembling the further she moves the pommel into him. The thong tightens, his head tilting back another inch against his will. Another sound comes out of him, short and choked. She knows he’s not choking yet.

“I hope this isn’t too much for you. It would be a shame if I couldn’t see just how far in this thing can go.”

“Too much? But we’re just getting started” She already regrets not gagging him properly. It was foolish of her to think that this would be enough to wipe that fucking smirk off his face. 

“So we are.” She digs her hand again into his flesh, rocking it back and away as she twists and pulls at the handle. The way that his body responds to her so readily, from the soft skin to the blood between his thighs, was always the most endearing part about him. Just like Zagreus, his body couldn’t hide any secrets. He was in all ways laid out bare for her.

“Meg--” he gasps, his eyes fluttering closed. The name makes her smirk widen. 

“Zagreus” she taunts. She turns and shoves the pommel in again, moving her face forward to lick along the heated curve of his spine. He chokes out something indicipherable as his breath is taken from him again. He can only respond by the bucking of his hips, the grasping of his fingers on the newly installed sheets.

“M--” she pushes it a little further, just because. The thong continues to tense between them. Her face nearly brushes the spikes built along it, admiring how it traces down the center of his back. It reminded her of the thread of Fates; something she could so easily snap, ending it all. Just a little more tempting, an experiment gone too far, and it could all be over. The thought of having that much control was enough to keep her body heated.

He looked like he was starting to struggle. She twists it again just to make sure he was still breathing. The staccato moan in response was enough, but the look in his eyes was proof enough that he was already losing air.

“You’re much more manageable when you aren’t speaking” she lets him know, earning what she thinks is a pained attempt at a chuckle. The movement makes him wince. One of his hands starts to go up to his neck, but she moves off of his ass in time to smack it back down, their fingers intertwining until they’re both gripping the sheets.

“I don’t think so” she growls in his ear. She’s leaned all the way over him now, nearly eclipsing his body. He opens his mouth to retort but she seizes it, knowing that’s the best way out of any to shut him up. He responds, his mouth eager to meet hers, though becoming a little more clipped once he realizes that this is making it even harder for him to breathe.

She moves off of him, not very interested in kissing this time around. She thrusts the pommel in further instead, his ass so loose that she can feel the handle knot starting to make its way in. 

“ _Hggh--”_

Meg couldn’t help but look at his face. It was tilted up enough that she didn’t really have to move; the slightly harrowed expression sculpted on his ashen face was everything she’d wanted to see. His lips were parted and swelling, tinged purple, his tongue darting out as if trying to lap up the air like water. His neck looked threatening to break, throat desperately bobbing beneath the unyielding grip of her whip. 

She was wrong to think that being stolen of breath would keep him quiet. He was making as much noise as ever, either determined to spite her or unable to control his sounds as much as he was unable to control the quivering of his body, the shivering of his skin. Meg smiles, moving her free hand away to ever so slightly wrap around his equally as trembling cock. From the way his body quaked, she half-feared that he was already dying.

“A--g--p--M---g--”

“Use your words, Zagreus. You can do it, you’re a big boy.” Again, she wondered if she made a mistake, because he looked and felt tensed enough to cum right then. She knew from experience that she didn’t even have to keep tightening the whip to finish him off. But she was still going to.

Testing his limits, she shifts to twist the handle once more in her hand, pushing it slowly in even further. His body was starting to offer some resistance, wound too tightly to let it in much further, though she was sure that he was managing to fit nearly all of the hilt knot by this point. 

The way his chest and abdomen were heaving made her wonder if he was going to cum so hard that he vomits, but it seemed to be as much his body in rapture as it was him trying to get air. The flames licking his sides were starting to frenzy now, always one of his tells: the laurels would threaten to lose their shape, flickering in every which way until it looked like his sides were literally burnt; the soles of his feet would flare to life, as if they were trying to reach her, a last ditch effort to control their own sensations. 

His entire body was curved up towards her, as if in worship. Thousands before had tried to praise her in hopes of buying mercy- Zagreus too, in a humorous way, back when their love was young and naive. Out of all of them, he was the only one she ever wanted praise from. His glassy eyes staring up at her, his back arched and trembling, his neck bared and marked with nothing but proof of her power. It was enough to please her tongue with a taste of what it might be like to be a god, to be among all of those pompous assholes on Olympus. What use did she have for Olympus when Zagreus’s breath was hers to steal?

“M--g--I--ahg---ghhaghhgh-kkkhk--” 

Her grip tightens on both her hilt and his, knowing he’s not going to last much longer. The thong is as taught around him as it is when they’re fighting and he’s already leaking all in between her fingers. With half the power she can, she gives him a _squeeze,_ shoving one hand further in and one hand further up, and that seems to be what does it.

With the rattle of a dying man he expels all the breath that he has, his body emptying itself of strength and fluid. She’s heard him die plenty of times but none of them had sounded quite like _that._ Not quite like he was having his very being squeezed out of him, like his climax had shaken the soul out of his body. She must hold it now in her hand, filthy with him but not yet letting go. Not until he falls limp, crumbling like a ragdoll into the sheets beneath him.

Megaera moves her dirtied hand away, wiping some of what she can onto the blanket as she peers over to Zagreus’s face. It’s hard to tell whether or not he was still alive-- he didn’t look as bad as she expected him to, but she had also seen him die looking more colorful than this. For a brief, fleeting moment, she wished that she were Thanatos.

When, after a moment, the Styx didn’t immediately rise to take him, she twisted the handle of her whip one final time, pulling it out of his ass with a satisfying _pop._ Immediately the thong falls limp and she sets to untangling him, a courtesy she would give him whether he was dying or not. 

His neck was gorgeous. The way that the skin was marred and twisted, blacker and redder than she had ever managed to get it otherwise, beautifully deformed. Her fingers run over the grooves she made. It takes a good few seconds of admiring her handiwork to realize that he really isn’t breathing. She feels no fear- only a little curiosity and a lot more pride. _Huh._ The Styx might not take him while she’s still right on top of him, then. 

Taking another selfish second with this revelation, she traces the curve of his jaw, holding his limp heavy head up with only her fingers. She had to admit that after all this time of seeing him die over and over again, of _being_ the cause of his death so often at the start of this whole mess… there was something uniquely satisfying about his corpse. He was alluring even in death, in the unspeakable and unbearably irritable way he always was. There was no amount of mutilation that could ever make Zagreus not beautiful. Not that she would ever tell him that. Probably.

Sighing heavily, she finally lets him go, stepping away so that the body could return to the blood. She glances at the scrying pool against the wall of his room, then back down at her hand, having thoughts of sacrilege. It wouldn’t terribly disrupt anything if she were to rid herself of his _evidence_ in there. After all, it was just water…. Wasn’t it?

Only one way to find out.

Zagreus, for all his astute observations, would never find out. At the same time she was committing this heinous act, he was once again emerging from the river Styx, a phantom coil lingering around his neck. He tries not to smile too sheepishly at the other spirits of the House as he makes his way back to his room, trying to play it off with a wave, a pet, a quip. Never mind the suspicious glare of his father or worse, the ever-knowing eyes of Achilles: never mind still the fact that the idea of everyone in the House knowing exactly what he’d just done was threatening to get him hard again.

He may have died, but he was far from finished.

**Author's Note:**

> Sex and I have a VERY COMPLICATED RELATIONSHIP so this was born entirely out of guesswork and an idea. I noticed that the very end of Meg's whip looks like a butt plug and hadn't seen anyone utilize it so I just threw this together to offer to the community. If you want to use this specific idea PLEASE feel free to, this is yours to use. If you've already written a fic like this then I'm sorry, I straight up don't read sex scenes. I didn't even read this as I was writing it, it was created in blind faith.


End file.
